And Then There Were Fewer
by asteriskss
Summary: After a drunken Dean wanders into Castiel's dorm room one night, he forms somewhat of a friendship with a guy that he thought he would never get close to. From there, they learn the ins and outs of each other's lives.


**A/N**: I am on the fence about continuing with this! But inspiration struck without warning!

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><p>Okay, it wasn't like their dorm was filled with criminals or mentally unstable patients who had killed, but still, he should <em>really<em> lock his door. It was the fourth month in to the semester and most of the students were stressing about finals, not how to break into someone's dorm room. But hey, that didn't stop the random asshole that had just walked through his door.

No, wait-

The random asshole that had just walked through his door AND promptly was stripping.

"Excuse me..." He said lowly, staring at the guy who was moving towards the bed. "What are you doing?" Frankly he was surprised that he was as calm as he was about some stranger in his room.

"The fuck you doin'?" The guy questioned back. "The fuck you in my room for?" He growled, slurring his words.

Castiel narrowed his eyes at the guy. Really? "Your room? I am sorry but this is my room. You just barged in moments ago." The guy flipped him off and flopped down onto the bed, pushing the books there to the floor.

"Hey!" He moved over and swatted at the guys hands that were about to shove the rest of them off. "That is my homework for next we-" he paused when he caught glimpse of the bruises on the guys face and knuckles. Oh, and the split bottom lip. He stopped his swatting and just stared down at him. "Are you okay?" As much as he wanted to kick this rude guy out of his dorm, he couldn't. Clearly he was drunk and was obviously in a fight.

"Fuck off."

Castiel narrowed his eyes again. He figured this was his punishment for trying to help. Okay. "Fine." He backed away from the bed and flopped down into his computer chair. "What happened to you?" He asked but didn't receive an answer. When he shifted in his chair to glance over at the guy, he was asleep. Of course he was. That would happen.

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><p>The next morning Castiel woke up to his back throbbing and his neck stiff. He had slept on the floor since his bed was sadly occupied by the drunken bruised guy who stumbled into his room. He groaned as he sat up, trying his best not to whimper at the pain. "Christ." He mumbled, pushing up from the floor. He would have forgotten about the guy had he not woken up on the floor. Oh, and you know what? The mere sight of the asshole in his bed, (<em>still asleep by the way<em>) didn't help his state at all. In fact, it made it worse. Then this guy had the audacity to get a good night's sleep after barging into his dorm room and commandeering his bed.

He stormed over to the bed and was about to shake him to wake him up, but he stopped. This guy looked much softer now that he was able to get a better look at him. He had long lashes brushing over his cheeks, freckles dusting over his cheeks and his nose. And those bruises made Castiel sad. He sighed and disappeared into the bathroom and returned with a wet wash cloth and some aspirin. "Hey." He whispered, shaking him lightly.

The guy groaned and shifted on the bed. "What?" He huffed. "Sweetheart, the number one rule of a one night stand is you gotta leave quietly in the mornin'."

Castiel raised a brow. "Um, no. We didn't— uh...it's not like that."

Mystery man's eyes opened and instantly locked on to bright blues. He smiled at him and Castiel found this version of the guy far more pleasant than last night. "Well good mornin', blue-eyes." He grinned as he sat up some, cringing at the pain that shot through him. "Fuck. I feel like I was hit by a bus."

Castiel just stared at him, trying to focus. "Um, here." He held out the aspirin with a bottle of water. "It will help." He said, dabbing the wet cloth against the guy's bloody lip that had dried.

The bruised young man smirked, ignoring the pain. "What's ya name, blue-eyes?"

"Castiel." He answered, rubbing the cloth lightly over a bruised cheek. "And you?"

"Dean~" he shifted closer into the touch and grinned. "How did I get here?"

"Get into my dorm? Or into my bed?"

"Sweetheart, I know exactly how I got into your bed." Dean cooed suggestively, his eyebrows wagging.

Castiel's cheeks flushed. "We- I uh...nothing happened. I slept on the floor." Why was he getting so flustered about this? "What happened to you?" He blurted out trying to change the subject as quickly as possible.

"I'm only teasing." He grabbed Castiel's wrist and huffed as he pulled it away. "I was at a bar. I shouldn't have been but I was. Some asshole was harassing my friends Charlie and Jo and yeah. That's the last I remember."

"I would really hate to see the other guy. Look at your knuckles." They were a deep bluish purple and cut up from his obvious connecting to someone's face.

Dean just shrugged his shoulders, more interested in Mr. Blue-eyes who was so kindly tending to his wounds. "So, let's play a game called, _'we just met but I'd fuck you if you ever gave me the chance'_."

Castiel pressed a little too hard against Dean's lip, intending to inflict pain.

"Ow! Easy there, sweetheart."

"Let us play a game called,_ 'keep your crude comments to yourself before the stranger trying to help you kicks you out of his room'_." He wouldn't really kick an injured guy out but Dean didn't need to know that. "Now give me your hand."

Dean smirked and ran his tongue over his split lip as he raised his hand up to the guy. "You're hot and have self-respect. You just keep getting better and better, blue-eyes."

Castiel ignored his comment and dabbed a little peroxide onto his bloodied knuckles. At least the guy was fighting for a good reason. "Were they okay? Your friends?" He asked, staring down intently at the injured hand.

"Who? Jo and Char? Yeah, I suggested they called it a night before the assholes become...well, drunken assholes." You couldn't beat that logic.

"I am glad."

Dean smiled. "So you're hot, you have self-respect, and you have a heart. Fuck I think I'm in love."

"Please. Shut up."

"If you can fight and cook I'm marrying you, blue-eyes."

"I do not fight." Castiel didn't fight unless he had to, which had only happened once and thankfully he didn't kill the guy. It paid off to have an older brother who was well versed in different fighting styles. "I am sure I politely asked you to shut up."

Dean grumbled something under his breath but he was still smiling. "What's the fuckin' dosage on this aspirin? Shit works fast." He was already feeling drowsy.

"They are strong, yes. I have painful migraines."

"Shit." He flopped back down onto the bed while Castiel started wrapping up his knuckles in gauze.

"You should rest." He paused and stared down at him. "Are you still slightly drunk?"

Dean rolled his eyes but nodded. "Yeah, maybe little bit still drunk." Or a lot— no, definitely a lot.

"Then rest."

Dean didn't argue with him, he just laid there and let this stranger bandage his wounds. He felt really lucky that he wandered into _this_ room.

Dean woke up several hours later and to say the least, he felt slightly dead. He would have gone back to sleep but the typing noise from a laptop was louder than you'd think since the room was so quiet. He tilted his head back when he heard,

"How are you feeling?"

Dean couldn't really make out what was being said to him and who was saying it. His head was throbbing and he wasn't quite sure where he was. He jolted up and glanced down at his watch. "9pm? What the fuck!"

Castiel just stared at him from his desk. "You can relax. It's Friday night." He was assuming that this guy didn't have any Friday classes. Not a lot of people did which was why the campus was nearly always deserted around Thursday night.

Dean visibly relaxed and groaned as he shifted on the bed. He was glad to hear that he hadn't overslept and missed any classes. "Okay, good." He went quiet for a moment before speaking again. "What happened?"

Castiel blinked. He wasn't sure where to start. "Should I begin with you walking into my room or you passing out on my bed?" Either was fine to him. But anything prior to Dean showing up was a mystery. Except what the guy told him about the bar.

"Well sweetheart, I guess that kind of sums up the answer to my question." He smirked and threw his legs over the edge of the bed and rubbed at his face. "Who are you?" He didn't remember the introductions from last night. "If we already went over this, I'm sorry about the repeat."

Castiel pushed away from his desk and turned to face the guy in his bed again. "My name is Castiel. Room 302." He smiled softly and pushed up from his seat and moved towards the bed. "You wandered in last night. You said that you were at a bar."

"Right. That son of a bitch..." He grumbled to himself before standing, moving closer towards Castiel. "Thanks, Castiel- Cas." He smirked and let his eyes wander over the guy. He stumbled into the right room obviously. "I'm in 203."

Castiel nodded. He could see how the guy could get the rooms mixed up in his drunken state.

"Well, thank you for," he raised his hands and motion towards the bandages. "This." He stepped even closer and grinned. "I will be seeing you around for sure." He backed out of Castiel's space and headed for the door. And with that, he left.

Castiel was left standing in the middle of his room, eyes slightly wide. He had a feeling that he had just gotten involved in something that would cause him problems. _Serious problems._

"I should have just locked my door."


End file.
